With a laugh, the girl called Lotus shrugged her pretty shoulders.
“After all, Suzette,” she retorted, “the Count is much more charming than the desperadoes, white and yellow, which surround us here....”
“Sh-h-h! Please, Mademoiselle!” the maid whispered sharply. “Please do not talk that way in this house. It is not safe! To be sure, we think the others have all gone out for the night, but all the same, there are things even Mademoiselle must not say!”
“Oh, bother!” cried the younger woman, springing up with small fists clenched in anger. “I know what you mean, Suzette! And I am tired of measuring all my words to suit the great Cho-San. I am sick of looking out for eavesdroppers and spies—yes, spies—who run to him with reports of all I say or do! Let me tell you this, my little maid, if I ever find you have been bearing tales about me, it will not be well for you!”
Stamping her slippered foot, Lotus turned to the window and savagely flung up the lower sash. Through the parted curtains she leaned out, drawing in deep breaths of the foggy night air.
“But, Mademoiselle!” cried the little French maid in a tone of keen distress. “Suzette have nevair bear the tales to anyone. You do her a wrong to think she would—w’at you call—double cross Mademoiselle. She only warn you that Cho-San, he is jealous w’en you speak of Count Borg!”
“Jealous, is he?” spat the girl, whipping around to face her maid. “But I don’t love Cho-San! I—I think I am too young to be in love with anybody. I like Count Borg, because he is young and handsome, and—well, he’s different. Cho-San is a great man. He is older and stronger and he has the ear of the Master. But sometimes Cho-San forgets that he and Lotus are not of the same race!”
Gently, yet with determination, Suzette took her mistress’ hand and led her back to the chair.
“Mademoiselle excites herself too much!” she murmured, picking up a brush and running it through the girl’s shiny, dark hair. “Suzette, she know w’at is the reason. You are wonder if Count André Borg have make good his escape from Haiti. Evair since Monsieur Michael Splendor broadcast the stealing of his big cabin plane, the friends of Count Borg have wonder if he will dare to fly straight here.”
“He’ll try, anyway, Suzette,” cried the girl. “He knows that Cho-San has called a general meeting for day after tomorrow night. André will be there unless something terrible happens to him between here and Haiti. Oh, it seems like years since I saw him last!”